


》Small Hands《

by Spieluhrenwelt



Category: Dungeons & Dragons (Roleplaying Game), Dungeons & Dragons - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Foreshadowing, Oral Sex, Porn with Feelings, Possibly Unrequited Love, Religious Conflict, Size Difference, commission
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-18
Updated: 2018-02-18
Packaged: 2019-03-20 23:27:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 827
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13728255
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spieluhrenwelt/pseuds/Spieluhrenwelt
Summary: A condescending, egocentric, overall shitty knight-archdeacon engages a sexual relationship with a mischievous young halfling lady, promptly regretting it when she starts to get under his skin and makes him question his recoil against love and romance.





	》Small Hands《

**Author's Note:**

  * For [RosesMayCry](https://archiveofourown.org/users/RosesMayCry/gifts).



> I wrote this little thing for my girlfriend, it features our D&D ocs. Enjoyed it more than I expected, so I decided to publish it. I might as well make a series of stories with this two characters in the future, I love them so much-

She is a tease.  
  
On days the party is not on important missions she will toddle at your side, give you a mischievous smirk, and make a cheeky comment on how much you love to ride your horse before running away, giggling like a child. At first you thought she was just antagonizing you for the sake of it, but then, you started noticing: how she would never miss a chance to get physical with you, how she would blush, mortified, at your deprecating comments on her size or the obnoxious shape of her ears...how she once followed you as you took your mount to a watering hole, tempted you with a raspberry as a peace offering, then kissed you fiercely when you leaned in for it.  
  
You remember all of this fondly now, with your hands in her ginger hair and your dick in her mouth, but you were baffled by her boldness at the time. You can hardly blame her, though: her kin is so grotesquely unattractive, and she's so young and greedy...  
  
You're shaken from your thoughts by the feeling of her tiny fingers struggling to fit around the base of your cock while her tongue works it's head, and you stifle both a moan and a laugh. The little pest is trying so hard to get your full attention, when you look back down at her she's practically glowing with excitement, and it takes every bit of your self control not to push all the way through her little mouth and fuck her brains out. Instead, you grab a handful of messy hair and suggestively pull at it, urging her to properly go down on you and marvelling at the way she promptly obliges, taking you between those pouty lips of hers until you're pressing against the back of her throat with every bobbing movement of her head and her eyes are damp with tears.  
  
It's admirable how, despite her obvious struggle, she still makes eager little noises as she tries (and fails) to fit more of your dick in her mouth, nearly choking when you buck your hips chasing your own growing pleasure, the feeling of her teeth scraping against sensitive skin the smallest of inconveniences for you. You regret you can only have her this way, but you're as long as her forearm and about as thick as her ankle, and it would be a shame if your encounters had to become more sporadic because you messed with her insides. Still, you find yourself wondering: how tight she must be, how hard she would squirm under a man your size...you follow that thought, sinking your teeth into your lower lip as you almost /feel/ it, clutching, helpless, hungry.  
  
The simple thought of it proves too intense to resist: you come, a series of delighted groans coming from the depths of your chest as you frantically push your hips forward again and again, holding your little woman still so that none of your seed goes to waste; between her sobs you can hear muffled protests, but you pay little to no mind to it, and ride your climax down until you're left shaking, your breath heavier than ever and your gaze lost in the filthy, gorgeous view beneath you.  
  
In the dim light of your personal campfire those forest green eyes are practically burning into you, her freckled cheeks a bright shade of red: everything, from her chin to the tip of her nose, is dripping with the cum she could not swallow. She looks outraged for a moment, to the point you even worry she's gonna leave, then, in the blink of an eye, she shrugs it off with a snort of laughter and gives you a playful grin, licks you away from her lips and climbs to your level for her turn, or a kiss. You're gonna have to make up for that, she tells you, like you're children pranking each other.  
  
So you do, that night, and the night after that, and many others, with those small hands in your hair, pulling at your locks, scratching the back of your head in feverish anticipation.  
  
Swift, skilled hands that playfully steal your rosary and unbuckle your belt.  
  
Delicate hands running through your hair, tickling your light stubble while she lies beside you.  
  
Clumsy, shaking hands that plug your wounds after a fight, anxious hands tugging at your sleeve in the middle of the night.  
  
Hands, so much warmer against yours than the bleak silver of a cross, gentle like no velvet will ever be; yet, though you can hardly believe it, strong enough to pull you from the Heavens. And she doesn't even know.  
  
But you do, and though her touch will forever linger in the palm of your hand like a nine inch nail - you realize one night as you watch her sleep peacefully, unaware - she's not sacred nor celestial, and you have to let her go.


End file.
